


Trick or Treat: The Joker's Mask and Batman's Disguise.

by BlackShady313



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Joker - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Batman, Alpha/Omega, Costumes, IronicCostumes, Jealousy, LooseAlphaOmegaDynamics, M/M, NoVaginas, happyending, notAcostumeBallstory, omega Joker, posessiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackShady313/pseuds/BlackShady313
Summary: It's that time of year again!~The annual Wayne Enterprises Halloween Ball approaches and Bruce Wayne finds himself tiring of the same thing year in and year out. With the millions that Bruce possesses you would think he could have anything- or anyone.What the Alpha truly wants however, he doesn't dare voice out loud; knowing the man with the scarred lips and curled smile could never be his.~OR~It's Halloween; the Joker's favorite holiday! As the villain takes to the streets of Gotham dressed head to toe as his favorite obsession he has one thing and one thing only on his mind: TREATS!But of course, with the Prince of Mischief around, the tricks aren't to far behind ;)*ONE SHOT*
Relationships: Batman/Joker, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98





	Trick or Treat: The Joker's Mask and Batman's Disguise.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArtistCat17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtistCat17/gifts).



> So... this was supposed to be a birthday fic for my lovely ArtistCat17 (her birthday is on Halloween) and as you can tell it's... *checks calendar* ... November 29th xD  
> ...well, least I posted before Christmas ;) 
> 
> Happy late Birthday Beautiful and thank you for being the best writing friend a gal could ever ask for, xox  
> ~Hope everyone enjoys! <3

The lipstick shakes in his hand as he ignores the movement in favor of eyeing his reflection steadily.

He shouldn’t be doing this, it was… weird.

Right?

Giving himself a once over, he fights the urge to wet his lips and ruin the make-up job he had ever so meticulously applied.

He had one hour before he had to be at the town hall where Wayne Enterprises’ annual Halloween Ball would swing into full affect and every year it had always been the same.

Get drunk, but not _too_ drunk.

Smile for the cameras and pretend to have a good time.

Every year the event raised millions of dollars for a select charity he had deemed as one of his favorites, and he kept reminding himself of this very reason whenever the dreaded day fast approached.

Gowns and suits, always so elegantly done with just the touch of spirited class, yet the event planner himself remained costume-less despite the event encouraging the action of creativity.

Dressing up as Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy alpha, felt like enough of an act to be considered a costume in itself.

People were watching, ALWAYS.

So cautious he remained, always in the light yet still somehow in the shadows; always playing it safe.

Always.

This year, he wanted to be different. He wanted to _feel_ different. 

He adjusted the acid green wig in the mirror one last time as he blinked awkwardly through the bright green contacts he had put on.

He ignored the twisting feeling in his stomach as he adjusted the purple sleeves on his outfit.

He was ready.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

It was strange; he had to admit, being so out of character from the usual pastels of emerald green, but unpredictability was something the clown did thrive upon.

Gone was the vibrant purple now replaced in a smooth finish of jet black titanium fibers that the maniac can’t help but touch and explore, relishing the very feel of the material itself.

He slides into the full body suit, heart racing in his chest at the little thrill he feels knowing _who’s_ costume this really belongs to.

Breathing deep he can taste the still present alpha pheromones left over from the original owners stitching. He buries a loud needful groan in the costume's neck as he waits for his heartbeat to subside.

The villain doesn’t miss the fact that he’s unable to completely fill the suit out with his own lithe form; in fact, it only stirs more excitement.

A long jagged nail skims along the cowl with an almost gentle reverence as he thinks about his little vigilante.

Acid emerald eyes study every inch of the material before slowly pulling it down and overtop as a breathy chuckle of delight splits the air.

It was an outfit that wouldn’t do for the Joker, but for one night, the clown had every intention of playing pretend.

He was ready.

Stepping outside, he giggled quietly to himself as he swished his cape back and forth in unabashed amusement. Satisfied with eyes shining bright, he takes the time to size up his ‘competition.’ A group of little kids run past laughing and the man notices some princesses, and some sort of red and black masked man strapped down with a utility belt and matching katanas.

A curl of a smile twists against his flesh as he notices a few Batman’s as well. He doesn’t give them a second look, however, just turns away as he cheerfully begins to hum.

Their outfits were fake, cheap.

As the Prince of Mischief skipped through the chilled streets of Gotham City, he couldn’t help but relish in the fact that his outfit was 100% genuine _stolen_ from the Big Bad Bat himself.

“No one will ever be better than me,” he sing- songs in an almost menacing tone, the puff of cold air capturing and emphasizing his every word.

Feeling superior and happy, the Joker diverts his attention elsewhere, his plastic Jack-o'-lantern candy bucket swinging against his side as he merrily sings on into the night.

He was ready for some treats and knowing the Joker, some tricks wouldn’t be too far behind.

~~~~~*~~~~~~~

“TRICK OR TREAT, SMELL MY FEET, GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT!!”

Bruce cringed at the crude chant being screamed at his front entrance before thinking better of opening the door. Halloween wasn’t really his thing, and Alfred would be up soon enough to handle any kids that would be coming by.

He fishes for his keys on the coffee table and is about to take the back exit to his garage that housed all his luxurious ‘civilian’ vehicles when a loud splat interrupted his train of thought.

Then another. And another.

“What the hell?”

Quick strides have him yanking the front door open to witness what he had expected- eggs thrown all over the side of his house as he eyed what appeared to be the back end of an _adult_ sauntering away.

Bruce knew it wasn’t worth fighting over, despite his fists clenching in annoyance at the too casual manner of the other man. He had almost held his tongue as the assailant was halfway off his property before he caught sight of what he was wearing.

A Batman costume, and not just any old outfit, but a _very_ realistic one.

He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so outraged at the irony of it all.

“Egging someone’s house? Hmm, that’s not very _Batmany_ of you,” a painted eyebrow raises as he yells after the man. He’s expecting the stranger to bolt, or to flip him off and keep walking, but is astounded when he does neither, instead spinning around angrily on his heels.

“And what would you know-HA!” Seething anger turns to twisted amusement as the outline of a tall, slender figure moves back up the steps without hesitation and right into Bruce’s personal space.

“Oh, this is too rich even for me. My, my, the _Joker_ of all people giving _me_ a lecture?”

The irony isn’t lost on the vigilante who’s dressed as the Prince of Mischief, but he says nothing of it, instead, “Aren’t you a little too old to be trick or treating?”

His comment seems to relax the stranger as lips curl up into a dangerous smile behind the cowl.

“Too old for trick or treating? Pff, now that’s just silly. Your never too old for free candy.”

Silky smooth words are laced with a razor edge, the voice spiking a familiar feeling deep within Bruce as he tries to place the overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

He doesn’t have long to process however before he’s distracted by slender gloved fingers moving playfully up and around to caress against his shoulder blade.

“So, _darling_ , I need a lil old favor from you,” hungry eyes sparkle bright as Bruce says nothing, his own eyes silently following the other man’s movements. He realizes that in such close proximity the other man was an omega.

Interesting.

“Go on and walk back up into your fancy little mansion, _for me_ , and tell your owner to stop being such a sordid cheap sake and MAKE WITH THE GOODS!” a pointed finger jabs uncomfortably at the side of Bruce’s ribs as eyes narrow dangerously in warning.

Bruce internally takes note as he wonders if the other man was extremely ignorant or just didn’t give a shit about whose house he was at with the way he addressed him so dismissively. Truthfully, it didn’t matter; the billionaire seeing it as a weird but welcome change from the usual ass kissing he got.

“My _owner_? I answer to no one.” Bruce huffs in angry amusement as he mulls over why he appeared to be baiting the other man and even more worrisome being that he seemed unable to stop.

He can’t help but add, “And even if I answered to someone, what makes you think I’d be willing to give your sorry spoiled ass anything?” an eyebrow raises as Bruce wonders what the other will have to say.

“Hmm…” the stranger pretends to think as a finger taps at the outline of his pointed jaw before an inhuman stretched smile graces his face.

Bruce watches the shift, curious eyes trailing after as he suddenly thinks of his nemesis, The Joker. He puts an immediate halt on such thoughts when he realizes that he’s enjoying his current company and view a little _too_ much.

“OOh how about this,” eager hands clap together, “If you don’t give me what I came for then our little costumes are about to get very, _very_ real,” a voice turns dark as long fingers fist against the purple collar of Bruce’s costume. The vigilante watches in hidden amusement; unable to deny how much he admired the feisty little omega.

“I’m sure your aware that Batman and The Joker have their own little fair share of… _physical_ fun, now don’t they darling?” the maniac locks eyes with Bruce, a black gloved hand coming up as he licks at the material with fevered desire.

The Billionaire bites back a low groan at the action as he can’t help but hate how aroused he was getting over the little omega. The man in question leans up; towering over Bruce.

“So tell me, ‘ _Joker_ ’, are you up for that kind of excitement?” and there’s a clear edge to his tone, an unnatural and dangerous note in his voice. The billionaire watches, noticing the twitch of slender fingers as he seemed to be reaching for something; the action reminding Bruce that perhaps the mysterious man had chosen the wrong outfit, noticing his personality was much better suited to the actual Joker instead.

Just like with his nemesis, Bruce finds himself unable to stop, wanting to push the taller omega; to see if he could break.

“You couldn’t keep up.”

The menace scoffs, though there’s slight mirth to his voice, “Couldn’t keep up, to what… you?” emerald eyes rake over Bruce’s costume as he wheezes in silent laughter; his body doubling over. “Nice try, darling, but I’ve been doing this little song and dance for years,” he taps at his head with a long index finger, “ I have it memorized like the back of my hand.”

The billionaire fights back a laugh, knowing how quick the man would be in changing his tune if he knew that it was the REAL Batman he was threatening and talking down to.

A beep on his watch goes off, startling Bruce as he realizes he was running out of time if he wanted to make it to his charity event without being late.

The truth is, the Billionaire couldn't care less about the gala.

What Bruce ~~wanted~~ desired, he could never dare admit.

He raises his fists, preparing himself; the mysterious ‘Batman’ doing the same.

A fight is exactly what Bruce needs to forget about all his dirty little thoughts that whisper the truth.

In the night they beckon with Siren call, reminding the Bat that what he truly wanted was his nemesis.

The Joker.

Guess he would have to settle for this unknown man instead.

~~~~~*~~~~~~

A perfectly aimed punch connects squarely with the frame of Joker’s face as his head snaps back in slow mo. He laughs despite the blood pooling in his throat as he spits red, mouth curling up in an excited snarl.

Eyes widen as the man dressed as his identity is quick to react, purple gloves curling tight around his thin wrist as The Price of Mischief stutters back in surprise. The imposter holds steadfast before pulling him closer and into his chest.

Joker retaliates by kicking and scratching; desperately trying to bite anything and everything with malicious intent as he’s surprised (and slightly turned on) with how capable the other man is at keeping up.

For an adrenaline filled moment the clown is reminded of the familiar feel of him and his Bat going at it, the image stuttering inappropriate sensations that he tries to taper down.

It’s then in the close proximity that the Joker can truly smell the other man and there’s no mistaken that scent.

The man dressed as him is an alpha, and the sharp twist to his side just confirms what he scents.

He’s a _very_ strong alpha.

The Joker swallows thickly, suddenly hyper aware and wishing to hell that he hadn’t put off getting his suppression medication for a week as he squirms uncomfortably.

As if reading his thoughts, the other man’s breathing slows down dramatically, a hot, warm groan slipping out through a ragged pant.

He feels the alpha suddenly tighten his grip on him and Joker internally panics when his body reacts against the sensation. He bites his lip hard to distract himself, forcing his legs to stay together as he prays his over eagerness doesn’t scent through.

He feels slightly dizzy, head reeling as the villain curses himself for being so stupid.

It had been so long since he had to worry about an alpha; that it hadn’t even occurred to him.

But still, omega or not, the Joker would be damned if he was going to show weakness; using the situation to his advantage.

Nobody liked a cocky omega…

“My,my, now someone’s not playing very fair,” the vigilante dressed man whines as he half-heartedly struggles against the rough treatment.

“And since when was the Joker ever one to play by the rules?”

… Fuck!

His fingers curl desperately into acid locks as the Joker pretends the answer doesn’t have his cock growing painfully hard.

“Hmm, yes, well, that _Is_ what keeps the Big Bad Bat interested… among other things,” the Prince of Mischief manages to choke out.

Despite his best judgement, the clown takes the time to slowly give the stranger a once over as he can’t help but admire the obvious strong build of muscles under the purple and green suit that seemed slightly too long on the other man.

“My,my, I must say, someone sure has done their homework. That’s quite the outfit you got there,” Joker murmurs, silently pleased at the realism of it all.

“I could say the same for you.”

The maniac hums a response but doesn’t regard the comment.

“Buuut you know darling,” the villain gives an experimental tug and realizes he’s unable to break out of the other man’s hold so he presses closer, booping the costume dressed Joker on the nose instead.

“If you did your proper history, you would know that your missing a few Joker trademark items.”

“A fan, are you?” and it’s startling that the man sounds almost… amused instead of disturbed.

Having an obsession with Gotham’s #1 labeled maniac was anything but unstable, but clearly the Joker wannabe was digging it.

“I suppose I’m a connoisseur of sorts, but… I must admit, I have a bigger thing for the Bat,” he wiggles experimentally against the alpha, eyebrow wagging in a highly suggestive manner that he realizes is a waste with the cowl completely covering him.

“Tell me what I’m missing,”

Oh, so the other man wanted to play.

**_Interesting._ **

The clown would of course be unable to resist the bait.

“Wellll, for starters, the loveable villain alwwwaaays has a pack of razor edged Joker playing cards in his…” he’s patting the stranger’s costume as hands freeze to curl around an all too familiar pocket and what’s inside as the alpha watches with rapt attention.

“What else,” the husky voice asks, an arrogant smirk splayed on his face that has the Joker twitching to cut off with one of his trademark switch blades.

“I… um… l-lucky guess,” the clown mutters with a pout before straightening his cape with a confused huff.

Only he and his Bat knew about his toys… right??

“ _I_ said, what else?” the voice cuts through his thoughts, _demanding_ , rather than asking, and fuck the manic hates how much he loves that.

“Welll….” he hesitates, as he puts some actual thought behind his next move. The stranger seemed to be some weird Joker fan boy, which was fine, but there was no way in hell that the wannabe was beating the real thing.

The longer he waits, the more on edge the maniac becomes with sharing the space with an alpha. A gnarled smile slips up wide as clarity hits the clown dead on; feeding off his own securities. He bites his lip, wondering if he should admit something that even his Batsy himself didn’t know, then thought fuck it. What would be the harm?

“Alright my curious clown, how about we try this on for size.

“If you _really_ knew the Joker, then you would know that he sure as hell isn’t…” he pauses, faining a distasteful sniff in the stranger’s direction, “An alpha,” emerald eyes pierce as the Joker’s gaze shifts with a clear challenge.

The villain relishes the startled look that crosses the stranger’s face; eyes widening considerably before the man seemed to catch himself.

“That’s not true,” the response is growled out angrily.

The Joker rolls his eyes at the alpha’s imperious comment.

“Oh baby, but it is.”

“It’s not. How could you possibly know something like that?”

For a second the villain thinks about holding his tongue ( for about 2 seconds) before a slow smile curls on his face.

It was Halloween, after all, and there were tricks to be had.

“How do _I_ know?” the vigilante dressed clown practically giggles with malice as he tries to hold on to his secret before his excitement gets the best of him, “Well golly gosh, hmm how could I possibly know?” he taps his lips playfully as he can’t help but miss his usual bright red lipstick.

“Oh wait, maybe it’s because I’M the real Joker!”

In one swift movement the cowl is ripped off and a shock of electric green hair spills out a clear indication. There’s no mistaken the man for anything but the real deal; his trademark laugh suddenly splitting the bone-chilling air.

He cackles in glee, fully expecting the clown dressed imposter to run off in horror at being around Gotham’s most psychotic and dangerous voted criminal. Instead, he’s completely baffled when the alpha does none of those things, eyes instead turning unnaturally dark.

“Hahaa- Jesus, perhaps your an even bigger fan then-” the words die in his throat as the imposter grabs the clown by the front of his suit and aggressively pulls him closer; mouth crashing down hard.

“Mpff-?!” The villain tries to protest, though words are lost as he’s hungrily consumed by a tongue that forces its way down his throat.

The clear scent of arousal drenches through the alpha, leaving an overpowering sensation that has the clown drowning as he struggles to keep his head on straight.

It had been so long since he had been around a _willing_ alpha,

A _strong_ alpha.

He forgot how good it felt.

How _addicting_.

When the stranger finally lets go, it’s only to take a second to breathe, something the clown desperately tries to catch up on as heavy pants fill the air.

Anxious and on edge, the Joker realizes he’s playing a game he is unfamiliar with as he tries to cut the silence with failed humor. “O-ok, wow. I mean I’m flattered and I know I’m hot shit and everything, but fooling around with a lookalike of myself, I mean that’s just-”

“Open,” a dark voice growls, a purple glove wrapping tightly against the freshly exposed jaw line as the Joker can’t help but feel vulnerable and naked without his usual make-up.

He wants to tell the stranger to fuck off, or perhaps teach him a _very_ valuable lesson about fucking around with the Prince of Mischief but it’s pointless when his body shudders in want at the low rumble of the other man’s demand.

He hates himself for giving in so willingly, groaning when the other man stuffs his mouth full with four thick fingers.

“Suck.” and the Joker can’t help himself, he does, whining against the alpha’s demands as an eager wet tongue skirts around the intrusion.

He’s close, so close to almost losing himself completely before the stranger makes one huge fatal mistake.

“You are MINE,” he hisses.

The possessive claim that would normally send any Omega spiraling into a helpless need does the opposite, the maniac’s eyes narrowing dangerously in disgust as he steps back; a sickening wet **pop!** filling the air as he takes his mouth back and slaps the unwanted hand away.

“I BEG YOUR FUCKING PARDON?! I am NOBODIES except for the Bat-”

“Joker.”

One word.

One word and that’s all it takes to freeze the villain in place as he eyes the other man in weary disbelief.

He lets out a shakily little laugh, “C-christ I forgot how deplorable an Omega can get around an Alpha. For a second I swore you sounded just like- hey what are you doing!?”

There’s no response, the alpha instead reaching into the bat suit without batting an eye; removing the cape as if he had done it a hundred times before.

Suspicious eyes watch as the stranger slips a hand in an unseen part of the suit, and with a click, a piece of the suit comes off easily.

It had taken the Joker WEEKS of studying his nemesis outfit before he had found that.

So how did-

There’s a moment of steadfast realization- both vigilante and villain stare at each with wild eyes as a rush of pure desire flairs up into the maniac’s belly.

“B-Batsy?” a timid voice asks, and he laughs in a huff of hysteria, for once scared of being delusional or imagining things.

It had to be him. It _had_ to.

“Joker.”

It’s as if a dam breaks, long arms grabbing feverishly for the other man as if his life depended on it; wild nails racking dangerously into a muscular back.

“Batsy, Batsy,’ he whispers, almost pleading. The clown _knows_ it’s him, but he _needs_ to hear him say it; needs to hear him admit it.

The vigilante, almost sensing the desperation hums out, “I see you stole my suit, Joker. I’ve been wondering where it’s been for weeks."

The maniac whines at the confirmation, finally able to give in completely to his urges as he rubs his body shamelessly against his Batsy. “Ooh god it’s you, it’s you, of _course_ it’s you.”

The vigilante hisses from his nemesis’ needful friction, but makes no attempts at stopping him. “ _Fu-uck_ you smell good,” heated words whisper as the alpha lingers far too close to his nemesis’ skin. It’s the first time that the Joker has ever heard his Batsy’s voice waver, and he clutches on to the sensation greedily.

“Wantwant,” the feverish plea claws out, the villain aware of how pathetic he’s being, but the omega inside is screaming MORE, and the clown was never one to ignore his desires.

A low chuckle escapes from the Bat’s throat as his nemesis growls with undeniable lust, tugging at the fake hair as he pulls the wig off with ease before throwing it without a second thought.

Bruce doesn’t care, caught up in capturing bare lips as he makes a point to smear the perfectly applied lipstick onto the clown.

Admiring his handiwork, the vigilante is graced with the clown’s wicked smile.

“Much better baby,” he cooes, the familiar taste of red acting as a calming sensation as jagged nails run through soft dark hair.

“By the way, love the choice of your outfit, though I gotta say Batsy, obsessed much?”

Bruce doesn’t even dignify a response, instead tearing at his favorite suit with an over the top aggression as the clown leans back to get a better view, eyes slowly blinking before automatically slamming shut in mute horror.

“Ooh shit,” he hisses in a panic that has the vigilante pausing.

“Whatsa matter?” a familiar gruff voice asks, and the Joker makes a point to look everywhere but at him.

He seems almost hesitant to say, and that just worries the billionaire even more.

“Your… makeup, it’s, uh, worn off completely.”

“And? That’s more your thing then mine,” the vigilante huffs, feeling slightly annoyed as he rolls his hips to make a point.

“F-fuck,” the clown hisses at the sensation, eyes growing wide in arousal.

“I-I, Y-your Bruce Wayne,”

At this, the billionaire stops dead.

He suddenly remembers that he is without his usual Batman attire and without his shoddy green wig and make up Bruce was just… Bruce, in Joker’s clothes.

Thinking fast, he knows he needs to assert his dominance before the Joker could get any ‘cute’ ideas.

“Is there a problem?” his voice is smooth and deep as he studies his nemesis without breaking eye contact. Lost in emerald, the billionaire feels an irrational stab of possessiveness overcome him, clutching on tighter to the omega as he wonders if the Joker will try to leave now that he knew Batman’s true identity.

A dark part of him knows the likelihood of letting the clown escape him when he had just been so needy in his arms was very little if any.

The Joker was HIS.

“Problem? Only if you stop touching me, pretty boy, come here,” and the billionaire instantly relaxes when he realizes where the Joker’s true interests lie; mouth eagerly capturing the omega in a heated, all-consuming kiss.

There’s a clash of teeth, an overly hostile tone as both men fall into a familiar pattern of fighting; each lashing out to strike and establish dominance.

Bruce wins, fingers curling expertly into bright acid locks as he pulls hard, startling the villain. Smirking, the billionaire uses this to his advantage as he runs a tongue against the inside of his mouth, swallowing down an excited moan from deep within his nemesis.

The further he explores, the more Bruce gets lost in the feeling, noting with amusement that he wasn’t the only one.

“Christ, your scent is getting so strong, your fucking soaking wet for me,” he growls as strong fingers curl along a pale throat as he pushes up, forcing the Joker’s eyes on him.

“Aren’t you, _little omega?”_ he runs a playful hand down and into tender flesh as The Joker gasps in response, unable to manage anything other than a pitiful whine as weak knees buckle at hearing his Bat address him as an omega for the first time.

Nibbling at the Joker’s throat, Bruce leans in close before lips press aggressively against the taller man’s ear, “When’s your next heat?”

A low groan escapes as the clown trembles in the vigilante’s arms; he doesn’t remember the last time someone had asked.

“Oh, who knows Brucie-Baby, a week, a month, two hours from now? Who has time to keep track of such things,” he giggles through a haze of pleasure, waving a hand nonchalantly though the vigilante knows his nemesis enough to realize it’s not his usual laugh; there’s fear laced in between each chord.

“Joker.”

His voice says it all.

A long sigh escapes past scarred stained lips before reluctantly, “I’ve been taking so many suppression pills I-I honestly can’t remember,” he mouths too quietly, smile erased as he ducks his head into the crook of Bruce’s neck to hide his embarrassment.

Afraid to look, the Joker continues to tuck himself further away; acutely aware of how vulnerable he was being around his nemesis.

It was a feeling he _loathed_ , even more so when Bruce grunts in disapproval.

“Suppression pills? Fuck. You know that stuff’s not good for your body.”

“And WHAT, you think _you_ are?” a response is easily snapped back, the villain teetering on edge.

His ire is rewarded with a low chuckle; the vigilante more than familiar with his clown’s erratic behavior.

“Me? _I’m_ the best thing for you, _baby_ ,” Bruce grins slyly as an expert tongue slips out; sharp teeth nipping and pulling at the bottom of the Joker’s lip. The omega whines desperately, unable to do anything but comply with Bruce’s wants as he feels himself giving in more and more with each touch.

The Joker was used to Batman, not Bruce; the play boy billionaire secretly relishing in pleasure at how willing the little omega was being with him.

Firm arms move to pin the clown above his head as the villain easily allows it, only beginning to squirm when he feels the heated gaze of the alpha; legs crossing nervously when the vigilante unclips the rest of the top armor with practiced ease.

The sound of metal hits the pavement with a heavy thud. The noise is so deafening that it’s almost enough to drown out the clown’s racing heart; unsure what to expect with their sudden and unexpected new roles.

As Bruce takes in the nervous scowl the lithe man is giving him, he can’t help the eager fingers that run slowly up and down the pale body with ease as he savors it.

The Joker felt so good, the alpha more than aware that the clown _belonged_ in his arms. A finger daringly slips down and pinches a pale nipple as the Joker groans, legs violently shaking as a drawn out gasp is quickly replaced with a fevered whine; Bruce sliding a wet tongue out for a taste.

“N-no w-w-wait,” the clown pants as he feels the telltale signs of wetness spreading down his thighs as the vigilante watches how desperate his nemesis comes so easily undone.

Bruce doesn’t wait, already sick of all the wasted years he could have had the clown underneath him. If he had known that the Joker was an omega…

“You know, one thing I still don’t understand, every time we fought you always smelled like…” his voice drifts off as Bruce contemplates his past memories and moments before realization dawns.

“You were using an alpha’s pheromones… why? Were you-”

He feels it immediately before he smells it, the sudden stiffness and discomfort from the omega as he leans slightly back to be able to see the clown’s face.

“Really Batsy, don’t tell me your shocked,” he snorts with displeasure before tapping a jagged nail to skin. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I couldn’t have you thinking you were better than me. If you would have known I was an omega from the start, you wouldn’t of given me the time of day in your Bat-schemed plans. The alpha’s _always_ the strong one, right darling?” the words are muttered quietly under his breath, the vigilante just barely registering.

A loud clang disrupts the relentless need as both men eye a fallen switch blade that gleams brightly against the dark lit Gotham streets.

Still holding onto the maniac, Bruce reaches down to grab the bright green handle of the weapon as he takes in the finely tuned purple trim.

Joker watches, not once breaking eye contact as pupils dilate in an animalistic hunger.

“Do it Batsy, common. Make me hurt, make me _bleed_ ,” he wiggles his hips, the sharp bones rubbing against the front of the other.

Bruce contemplates it for a minute as his nemesis waits, before a loud **thunk** of the blade sinks in beside them, holding steadfast in the wall.

“Not today.”

“Wha-but!?” the protest already on the tip of his tongue but the vigilante is quick to cut him off, nuzzling against his hair as he breathes in the delicious omega scent.

“Don’t you think we’ve spent enough time already hurting each other?” he leaves the question open, busying himself with leaving behind a trail of kisses that start from the top of the clowns hairline, before peppering down until lips reach a slender jawline.

“A _pretty_ little omega like you needs to be treated right ever once in awhile,” a finger trails gently down a long scar on the Joker’s cheek, a wound he’s all too aware of being the cause of.

“Dontchu think?”

“I… I” and Joker doesn’t know what to think. _Him_ , pretty? Now that was a laugh. No one _ever_ thought that.

“I want to taste you,” a hot breath ghosts against skin, “Would you like that my little clown?”

“Ooh- I” The Joker groans, unable to fight back the shivers of pleasure at the alpha’s words; his body spasming in response. His nemesis watches silently, nothing slipping past his well-trained eyes as he lets himself enjoy the show.

The Villain is all too aware of how dangerously close the vigilante is to his neck; teeth lightly grazing the sensitive area made for marking. The clown _knows_ he should say no, he knows it’s a bad idea to let the vigilante into more of his life than he already has. His need for Batman in the past had already been borderline on obsession, and now that fixation is even worse; even _stronger._

The villain is powerless to stop himself.

“Ooh g-god. Yesyesyes, please Batsy, _please._ ”

The confirmation is all that Batman needs, no longer hesitant as desperate hands rip at the last of the material; the suit tearing apart as thin purple underwear stretches tight against a delicious ass and an eagerly dripping cock.

“All this time…-” Bruce trails off. His voice is almost mournful, but he knows he needs to make up for lost time, his fingers moving quick to take the purple gloves off as pale skin presses against creamy white flesh.

The Joker gasps at the sensation of feeling his Batsy’s hands for the first time ungloved. Expert fingers playfully trail up and down trembling lithe thighs as the clown moans into the touch.

His Batsy felt good- _too good_ , his body shaking in uncontrollable need as he waits to see what the vigilante expects of him next.

“If you _ever_ take those fucking suppression pills again, I swear I’ll,”

“I won’t, I won’t I swear, just please… _please_ ,”

A salacious nail trails along the fabric before dipping down and ripping the purple material off his thighs in a matter of seconds.

An overwhelming amount of slick coats the air and Bruce has to fight the urge to not devour the omega on the spot.

But no.

He had been waiting a lifetime for his clown, and he was going to fuck him right.

“So wet, so filthy,” he breathes, unable to hide the obvious way his nemesis was effecting him; inhaling his scent deeply.

“I… I-” the clown’s groan takes over in an overwhelming sensation, as an expert tongue dips down to lick at his steadily growing shaft before slowly moving to his slit, pre-cum leaking and spilling down between shaking pale thighs.

“Christ, you’re a whore.”

“Yesyesyes,” a breathy moan calls and Bruce’s eyes sparkle at the easy omission as he grins wickedly.

“Hmm, perhaps if you’re such a whore than you don’t need me to touch you after all,” a thick finger teases lightly against the outline of the Joker’s cock before tracing down and back before stopping at puckered skin.

Eyes flutter dangerously wide as the Joker realizes the implications behind the words. “Wha-? Oh nonono B-Batsy plea-”

“Shut up, you filthy little cock slut,” his alpha tone spikes authority; the Joker easily picking up and complying as he says nothing other than a pitiful sniffle.

Bruce would be lying if he didn’t admit he enjoyed the rush of excitement he felt over how well behaved his little nemesis could be around him.

“All those nights we spent fighting, chasing after each other, _wrestling_ on top of each other, my, I have to wonder if you were being a naughty little omega even back then with your thoughts.”

To his glee, he’s rewarded with an uncontrollable whine.

“PLEASE Batsy, please,” and he swears he can almost see tears in the emerald eyes and for a moment he almost feels bad for the clown.

Almost.

“Tell me what you imagined _my_ little omega slut. What were you thinking when you were pressed between my legs, fighting and squirming underneath me. This whole time I thought you were just a masochist, but really you just wanted any little excuse to be dominated under such a powerful alpha, didn’t you?”

“Just a desperate little bitch in heat,” he adds as an afterthought.

Joker stills at the comment, a flash of vulnerability before he shields it with a murderous glare.

“I’m waiting for my answer, Joker,” Bruce moves up as his grip tightens slightly along the maniacs jaw, before pressing soothing circles to the skin in encouragement.

The words ‘fuck off’ are on the tip of the Joker’s tongue but he swallows the thought as Bruce bends down; wetting his lips before expertly lapping at the tip of the clown’s exposed cock. Bruce and his nemesis both watch as an overly zealous amount of drool drips down, filling the Joker’s hole completely.

“Ooh god, I-I-” the villain breaks, unable to resist giving in, “I, I-imagined you f-fucking me,” he whispers as his face flushes a pretty color.

It was a start, but Bruce expected more.

“Come on _baby_ that’s it? You can do better than that,” he coos, tongue sliding out to teasingly lick between shaking thighs.

“Mmnf! Ooh God! -I-I imagined you m-m…ma…” his voice stutters to a stop and Bruce is pleased at how much of a pathetic mess his nemesis was turning into.

Taking pity, he cups his jaw gently, tilting his head up.

“You imagined what, me marking you, _claiming_ you?” a raised pointed eyebrow drawls.

Joker simply nods.

“SAY it,” the alpha hisses.

“Batsy I… l dreamed about you tying me down with one of your gadgets and f-forcing yourself on me. W-we fight until you get the upper hand and then you… you… _ha-haa.._ ” a desperate laugh escapes past scarred stained lips, the maniac’s emerald eyes fluttering close at the fantasy. “Y-you hold me down and take what you want; and you never stop until you’ve f-filled me completely with your seed,” the Joker admits through broken moans of distress as Bruce strokes his cock at an agonizingly slow pace; his eyes never leaving the Joker’s. The clown desperately tries to match the movement as hips thrust up, only to be overpowered and pushed back down.

“Go on.”

“Batsy- _Bruce_ please,” the Joker whined, utter embarrassment evident on his face.

“If you want any hope of cuming tonight, then you’ll do what I fucking ask or I’ll leave you like this,” he threatens, voice loud and serious as the alpha/Batman side dares his nemesis to defy him.

The Joker won’t, and they both know this as Bruce relishes in the sound of a choked sob that escapes past lipstick smeared lips as the clown shakingly continues,” I-I imagined you l-licking me clean and then… f-forcing your cock back inside me to cum over and over again. Y-you make me keep your seed inside and then you… you knot me.”

An unmistakable spike of fresh arousal fills the air at the omission, the omega easily picking up on the alpha’s excitement as he shivers in anticipation.

“Quite the description there, little omega. Tell me, you must think of me constantly while you play with yourself, don’t you?”

He sees a flash of uncertainty in emerald eyes, a hesitation that Batman is quick to shut down.

“Don’t lie to _your_ alpha,” and a pitiful moan escapes as the clown feels so weak and vulnerable and aroused.

“Y-yes. All the time Batsy.”

“How often is all the time?”

“S-sometimes once a day, s-sometimes… sometimes 7 times.”

“7?!” a dark chuckle escapes Bruce’s lips as he can’t help but think how lucky he truly is.

“Fuck, you really are a dirty little thing. That’s alot of times baby, tell me, what were you doing up there all by yourself in your abandoned warehouses? I bet you were busy playing with your little toys all the time, making yourself all sloppy and wet,” at this Bruce leans down to nip at the Joker’s hole, a wretched sob escaping from the omega as he picks up his pace; expert hands moving quicker against the warm skin of the Joker’s cock.

“You know, _Joker_ , during our many fights, I’ve often wondered how flexible you truly were. Shall we test that theory?”

The clown has no idea what the alpha is implying, but he doesn’t care, especially when a husky voice leans up, before playfully biting at his ear.

A wet tongue dips down, closer, wetter…

“I bet if you _really_ wanted to, you could suck your own cock.”

“I-OH!” the insinuating hits like a slap to the face as emerald eyes blink wildly open.

_His own cock??_

“Don’t you think? I bet you could, _baby_ ,” and he’s adding that extra charm, the one that Bruce Wayne uses whenever he wanted something.

And right now, he wanted _someone_.

“I-I, um…” and Bruce’s smile only grows wider, amazed at finally being able to catch the clown at a loss for words.

“Surely Batsy I don’t think-”

Muscular arms shift, pulling the clown slightly up as a face presses between thighs daringly. A tongue presses firmly against his entrance. “Come on baby, suck your cock all pretty for me and I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”

“I- OhgodOhgod,” The words register slowly before Joker is full out moaning as he struggles to behave; his eager body wanting to give in.

“I mean after all, aren’t you the one that likes to always play little games with me, _Joker_?”

The clown whines at the implication, the reminder of _who_ he was touching, heavy in his mind as his pale skin turns a dusty shade of pink.

He looks up into beautiful blue eyes as he releases a shaky breath. Knowing all too well that there’s no way in hell he could deny the alpha anything asked of him; he knows what he needs to do as a shaky breath escapes past scar framed lips. He curls up slightly, his spine protruding as pale white skin angles up and down; his mouth stretching unnaturally wide as he deep throats his own cock.

It’s a strange thing, being able to feel your own wet lips spread wide, but the Joker doesn’t hesitate, only eager to please as he swallows himself down without a second thought.

“Jesus Christ,” a hand leans up to curl tightly in acid green hair as Bruce watches with dilated pupils- his breathing coming out heavy and fast as he holds onto the omega possessively.

“That’s- _your_ … FUCK, your so hot!” the alpha hisses, eyes darkening as he hungrily watches his nemesis start to bob up and down; drool leaking out between scarred lips.

The Joker stumbles at the compliment, accidently choking himself as he fights the urge to not cough.

The vigilante feels an overwhelming sense of his alpha nature kick in at the lewd sight in front of him. He guides them both back and against the wall as Bruce uses his one arm to position the Joker higher up.

Firm hands splay out a perfect ass as Bruce presses up and licks invitingly at his nemesis’ hole. A tongue trails down to lap up some of the omegas’s slick before sliding up to play at his entrance.

The villain gasps, his movements freezing as the alpha growls lowly in warning; the Joker quick to obey as he resumed sucking himself off between shaking thighs.

The act of behaving isn’t lost on the vigilante, Bruce kissing the clown’s entrance before swiping a tongue down and in.

“Ooh god-oh god, B-B-BATSY!” the clown cries out around his full mouth of cock; his lithe body thrusting up automatically to chase the feeling. The vigilante feels so fucking good, his arousal only growing as he realizes how strong the alpha has to be to hold him up with such ease as long legs shakingly splay out. The clown feels a cool wetness being spread inside him as saliva drips down and in as Bruce pushes his tongue further and further inside. He moves agonizingly slow- teasing in a way that’s tipping on the edge of borderline torture. The Joker tries to focus, legs trembling desperately as he feels fresh slick drip down, coating his body and filling the air with more scents of desperate need. The alpha smells it, making the clown gasp, body spasming for more as Bruce continues to spread him wider and wider with his play.

A loud pop as lips pull away before, “W-wait,” a debauched scratchy voice pants, “I-I’m close Batsy, so so close," I just need a minute, just-” it’s then that Bruce lets go of the clowns ass abruptly as he hauls his whimpering nemesis back into his arms. Jagged nails dig firmly into the Bat’s back as the clown clings tightly to his alpha.

A quiet smirk graces Bruce’s face as he enjoys the warmth and neediness of the other man. The unnatural obsession for attention that the maniac always demanded of him was something that secretly thrilled Batman to no end.

“A minute? What does the Crime Prince of Mischief need more time for? Surely you can control yourself, can’t you?” the words are murmured with heated intentions, as sure fingers skirt down… down. The Joker watches, unable to look away as he notices the vigilante reaching for his swollen, leaking cock.

“I’m sick of waiting- that’s all we ever fucking do and look how many years has gone by. _I’m_ not waiting for anything anymore.” Sharp brunette eyes pierce as lips press lightly against the clown’s ear. “Common _my_ pretty boy, why don’t you show me just how pretty you can _really_ be,” Bruce shifts, head nuzzling into the clown’s pale neck. “All coated in your own cum…” his eyes are locked on with the clown’s as he continues where the Joker’s mouth had left off; stroking his cock faster.

The villain was not used to all this. The sensations, the overwhelming pleasure, the _way_ his Bat was talking to him, the way _Bruce_ was making him feel. It was all too much, the clown a pathetic mess; unable to mutter anything but, _Batsy Batsy Batsy Batsy_ over and over.

The thought of Bruce wanting to be the one to make him cum pushes the clown to the edge as he prepares for his inevitable orgasm. It’s then that the vigilante leans up slightly before biting down hard on the Joker’s collar bone where his omega scent gland was; officially marking him.

The unexpected rip of dominance shoots straight through as the clown screams out Bruce’s name, his orgasm violently ripping out of him as a low shaky moan follows the desperate slow rocking of the clown’s hips before abruptly stopping.

Bruce shifts, feeling the dead weight of his nemesis as the Joker collapses limply into his alpha’s arms.

~~~~*~~~~~~~

It’s several minutes before either man moves, both seemingly almost afraid to break the moment.

Bruce is the first to do so, knowing his painfully hard dick was going to be tended to tonight; and the Joker would be the one responsible.

He wonders if he should be smooth, like billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was supposed to be, or perhaps revert back to his vigilante status as Batman.

He decides a little of both, yet neither at the same time.

He decides to just be himself.

“Do you, uh, want to come to a Halloween party with me? I host one every year at the town hall, part of a charity event,” he leans in closer, picking the discarded cape off the ground as he expertly drapes it around a slender torso, the Joker shivering against the lingering fingers on his body.

He had been holding the clown for so long, and yet he still can’t seem to let go as he has his maniac curled up in his arms.

“OOh a Halloween party with the boys, eh?” a pleased giggle escapes past scarred lips as the clown secretly lets himself enjoy how much his Batsy was taking care of him. He sighs happily, snuggling in for some warmth as the cape and his filthy underwear are the only thing currently keeping the chill out.

“A Halloween party with _me_ , Bruce corrects,” and the Joker smiles angelically before realizing something as he sits up a little straighter, eyes scanning for something before he makes little whiny grabby noises. The vigilante looks to see what the clown wants before a small smile graces his lips and he picks up the clown’s jack-o'-lantern candy basket; handing it to eager fingers. The Joker studies the contents before looking up with a pout.

“I didn’t get to finish,” hands shake at the container as if to prove his point.

Bruce peers into the plastic pumpkin, studying its contents.

“There’s lots there _baby_ , more than enough for one clown,” he murmurs lovingly. The sudden term of endearment has the Joker ducking his head in the crook of the vigilante’s neck to hide the creeping blush spreading across his pale face.

“But Riddler said that if I came over late tonight, he would give me-”

Hard nails press deep, the clown hissing at the unexpected pain as a groan of pleasure slips past scarred lips that he can’t control.

“ _What_ are you doing going over to the Riddler’s so late at night for?” there’s clear ire in the alphas tone, leaving no room for the clown to dare attempt a lie as he unconsciously flinches at the random change of mood from the bulkier man.

Eyes flutter through a wave of contemplation as the Joker studies Batman with slight confusion on his face. “H- he said he had full size chocolate bars AND full cans of individual pops. He said he would even give me a handful of each if I came over. “

Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing at tired eyes.

Fucking hell, his omega was _too_ innocent sometimes; knowing full well that it was a weird description for someone that had been his nemesis for longer than he could remember.

He considers how strange a realization that is before a dark thought clouds his mind; spiraling into something ugly, _possessive_ , that he’s unable to stop.

What if someone else had learned Jokers not so little _secret?_

Learned how vulnerable the Prince of Crime could be.

Did Riddler know?

An animalistic anger seizes control, threatening to rip from his chest as the vigilante snarls,

“And what, you couldn’t afford such a thing with all the millions you steal?” Batman seethed as a feeling of dread begins to press against the clown's chest.

All too suddenly the villain realizes he shouldn’t of mentioned the Riddler’s name, it was a careless mistake, one that seemed to remind the vigilante all too well of _who_ the Joker was and what he had just done with his nemesis no less.

The clown is quick to hide his discomfort though, trademark smirk curling along the scars as his mouth lifts up at the corners.

“Well, of course I could, but that just takes the fun of out Halloween Bat Boy!”

“I see the way he looks at you,” an unamused voice snaps back.

The Joker stops mid gesture, head tilting in an adorably confused expression as he struggles to process the insinuation. He hadn’t expected the comment at all, unsure what the vigilante was getting at, but frankly he didn’t care. His Bat wasn’t mad at _him_ , and really, what else mattered besides that??

“? The way he looks at me? You must be losing it, bat boy, the Riddler isn’t-”

“ _Don’t_ play games with me Joker, you see _this_ ,” fingers curl around green spiked hair as Bruce yanks hard, exposing creamy pale skin. His neck is all tattered and bruised, the clear mark of ownership on display, “You are MINE.”

A sharp breath ghosts against the sensitive flesh before lips press lightly against the clown’s ear, “Do you fucking understand?”

“I… I..” taken by surprise, the clown swallows down a shiver of excitement.

“Answer me,” Bruce growls, biting down hard, as a spot of blood is quick to bead and surface. It’s erased just as quick by an eager tongue; desperate to taste the red.

A loud groan of, “Y-yes, yes, of course Batsy, _of course!_ Do you even have to ask, darling?”

“I'm crazy, not an idiot” he giggles to himself before breaking out into a full-blown laugh.

The vigilante is startled by how much he had missed that sound, though he remains silent; enjoying the laughter until it bled to nothing.

“My, my darling, I must say, I like this little possessive side of you, meeeow,” a pur slips past unadulterated arousal.

Firm hands curl around the lithe waist as Bruce doesn’t bother to hold back his smile; letting it show through a steady wave of relief flooding over him.

“Yes, well, a wild thing like you needs to be reminded of your place now and then,” he grunts matter-of-factly.

A small malicious grin curls up in response. He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’ll do nothing but rile up the alpha even more, which is _exactly_ why he says,

“You think so, Batsy Dearest, but really, who’s pulling at who’s strings?” a finger lightly ghosts over the vigilante’s lips and the clown doesn’t miss the obvious interest as pupils constrict.

“So I tell you what, baby. I’ll go to your little rich boy party and the Riddler can be my after _after_ party. Win win for everyone!” he giggles as he pushes himself back; tongue eagerly wetting at his lips as he waits for the desired reaction he’s expecting.

He gets it, the Joker’s smile growing even more at how easy it was to play his alpha.

“I see I didn’t make myself fucking clear,” and Bruce is throwing the omega back, before crowding into his space, slamming the lithe man against the wall as he pushes a leg between slender thighs to assert his dominance.

“You think any alpha will want you now when you so clearly smell like me? My scent is obvious, marking you as _my_ filthy little whore. You don’t think the Riddler won’t notice? Fuck, I can _taste_ myself on your skin.” Bruce bites down hard, marking the tender side of his omegas neck as the clown can do nothing more but beg and plead pathetically.

“How are you going to cover that up, Joker? Got a little trick to mask that?”

“Ooh god…” the clown hisses, realizing how right the alpha is. He _does_ smell like his Bat, positively preening with lust at the thought.

“I-I don’t want to Batsy, I don’t I swear,” he’s begging, suddenly worried that perhaps he had pushed the alpha too hard.

“Please take me home with you tonight. Pleaseplease.”

Eyes flick in interest, but the vigilante remains physically unmoved, “I’ll be too busy breaking up some villain after _after_ party… apparently.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“What?” the vigilante startles at the too abrupt response.

“I-if that’s what you want, I mean. The Riddler, just say the word Batsy and I’ll kill him for you- for _us_ , just please, _please…_ ” he can feel his legs start to give as he braces pointed elbows back to steady himself.

“You know I don’t approve of killing.”

“I-I know. Just… please, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I SWEAR it.”

There’s a long pause before the Bat’s frown curls up into a malicious smile. Straightening up, he gives the omega a lecherous gaze once over, “You will NOT be going to Riddler’s tonight, or _any_ night for that matter.”

The maniac doesn’t have to respond to know it’s a command and not a request.

He doesn’t care, however, already too far gone to give two shits other than desperately wanting to go home with his alpha.

“Yesyes of course. Of course. Yoursyours, only yours,” he whines, as his back arches up unexpectedly at the possessive tone the alpha had used on him. He can’t help the consuming omega need ingrained as he bites back a groan, the telltale signs of slick beginning to spread with each uncontrolled tremble of arousal between pale thighs.

“Now that’s a good little omega,” a rumbling noise of clear amusement voices as the vigilante pushes their bodies closer together, Bruce wrapping his arms around the back of the Jokers head.

“Tonight I’ll buy you as much candy as your heart desires,”

“As much as I desire, huh?” fingers tap playfully against smeared on lipstick as a wicked streak flashes through pure emerald eyes.

“And what if I desire more than just candy for one night?” the sentence hangs unfinished, but Bruce knows what the clown wants.

Knows what he needs.

Luckily for his nemesis, Bruce needs it just as bad.

“Whatever you want _my_ little omega, _whatever_.”

Hands curl to grab at the taller mans ass as he hauls him up with ease, the clown giggling in delight as long legs wrap around his vigilante.

“You. You It’s **Always*** been you, Bruce.”

A quiet whimper of bliss as the clown nuzzles into his Batsy’s neck as the vigilante meets the action with a light kiss to his forehead.

It’s not often the Joker says his name, but when he does, it drives the billionaire wild.

“I gotchu babe, relax.”

He hears a quiet distinct mumble of,” You better get me some candy AND fucking pop or I swear…” and the other simply chuckles quietly to himself as he shifts his omega in his arms; using a free hand to run fingers through beautifully unique hair.

He can smell the obvious arousal, the billionaire knowing all too well that his nemesis got off on being touched or man handled.

He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he also had somewhat of a kink as well; not bothering to show any restraint as Bruce dips his head down to hungrily mouth at the clown’s dampened crotch. The thin material of underwear desperately strains against a growing erection, a dark stain of pre-cum and slick already soaking through.

A distraught sob escapes past scarred lips as the Joker realizes he can’t seem to stop, powerless to the way Batman makes him feel, his body leaking more and more as he loses himself to the scent of the alpha. He rocks wildly on Bruce’s tongue, eyes blown wide at even the tightest of frictions.

“Ooh f-fuck Batsy baby!” he hisses, body automatically moving to chase after the sensation.

Bruce was feeling the effects of finally having the Joker as well, letting himself get lost in the moment. “Fuck you taste so good my little omega, taste just like you should. Your my naughty little treat, aren’t you?” and he’s lapping at the sopping wet fabric; the clear outline of a rock hard cock straining desperately at the thin purple material. The vigilante runs an expert tongue slowly up and down the Joker’s thighs and legs, attempting to clean him up. In reality, it just makes the clown prince more aroused, slick and cum leaking out more and more with each touch.

Bruce chuckles darkly, finally letting up as he stares at his nemesis that’s now completely wrecked and out of control; pupils blown wide as his legs weakly splay wide and open.

He hadn’t told the Joker, not yet, but the Billionaire had also thought about him like this before.

Staring at the ceiling at nights when sleep wouldn’t come, wishing desperately his nemesis was an omega so he could take him and put him in his rightful place of being underneath him.

Now he didn’t have to silently want, to hide his need for his nemesis that seemed to only grow with each and every interaction the two faced.

“Better get yourself cleaned up my little whore, don’t want you to smell _too_ good for the party,” he makes a show of licking his lips, savoring the sweet sensation of his clown on his tongue.

“B-but Batsy can’t we just-”

“Enough. You already got to cum once, you can wait until tonight.”

“Tonight?” An excited Joker sits up straighter, extremely interested.

“What happens tonight??”

Bruce tries his best to hide the evident fondness, attempting for assertive instead. “What’s going to happen is I’m going to take you back and fuck your pretty little hole over and over until your body forces itself into heat.”

The Joker says nothing, just shivers as he clutches his alpha tighter.

“I’m going to knot and claim you, prove to you that you really are **my** little omega,” a warm mouth whispers filthy against an ear, “Would you like that? Being stuffed full of your Batsy’s cum?”

A finger runs playfully against the Joker’s face, stopping at his scars on his lips before massaging them gently. The clown whines happily, rubbing up against the touch.

“Maybe get a pretty little plug to keep you filled up, let everyone smell me _inside_ you for days.”

“Oh god Batsy,” a frantic voice stutters, “Must we go to this party? We could-” he reaches slyly for Bruce’s cock, but the alpha slaps his hand away.

“Yes,” he interrupts, “Call it punishment for being a pain in my ass for all these years,” there’s no malice behind his words, only amusement.

The clown huffs with a grumpy expression, something that Bruce’s heart lurches at, as the Joker finally settles on his trademark grin.

“Jeeze Batsy, and they call _me_ evil.”

“Your not the only one who’s got a few tricks,” Bruce mumbles soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down the lean man’s body.

He could feel his ribs and he frowned silently to himself. He would have to make sure to get his omega properly fed and watered.

“Fiiiine,” the Joker gives in with a pout that has Bruce’s heart stopping.

“Dress me up pretty and I’ll be your doting princess of the ball.”

Despite his protests, Bruce knows his clown is relishing the thought of being draped around his arm and put on display for everyone to see.

The Joker hadn’t made a big deal out of his identity, truly not caring about anything more than having his Bat by his side, just as the clown was his Joker and it was as simple as that.

Bruce Wayne was considered one of Gotham’s richest most attractive bachelor’s; something that was just an added bonus for the Joker.

The clown, however, had a different reputation, and a fearsome one at that. Though despite all the horrors there was no denying how gorgeous the green-haired man was, Bruce himself hearing from multiple people how if Gotham's #1 villain wasn’t so fucking insane that they’d like to jump his bones or be on the receiving end.

The thought ignites a possessive fire inside Brue’s body as he squeezes the man tighter to his chest. He’d have to be mindful when showing off his omega tonight.

People could look but not touch.

 _Nobody_ would ever be allowed to touch his perfect boy.

As the brunette begins to carry the clown to his car waiting out back Bruce wonders idly to himself if he should buy Joker his very own candy and soda factory.

If it kept the clown happy and in his arms, Bruce would do _anything_ for him.

Anything.

Looking down, he sees long eyelashes start to flutter close and Bruce watches with an undeniable stir in his heart.

He presses a light kiss to his omegas cheek as he gently puts him in the passenger seat of his car, buckling his seat belt to make sure he’s safe before he quietly whispers into the October night,

“Happy Halloween, my little Joker.”

**Author's Note:**

> welp that's it folks.  
> FIRST time writing alpha/omega dynamics so I apologize if it was straight up fucked.  
> If you however did not find it fucked or perhaps you like fucked, PLEASE leave a comment or kudos, that shit is my soul food :D *om nom*


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